


JWP 2019 #16: No Dogs Allowed

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: And there's a parrot, Mysterious Death, Prompt Fic, implications of domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 01:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19842334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: Lestrade brings Sherlock and John to the scene of a mysterious death. Written for JWP 2019 #16.





	JWP 2019 #16: No Dogs Allowed

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This one really got away from me. Implied domestic abuse. Hastily researched parrot behavior. Hastily researched engineering. And written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
> Prompt: No Dogs Allowed. Include an animal other than a dog in your work.

“It just doesn’t feel right to me.” Lestrade led John and Sherlock towards the house. “There’s a lot of pressure from upstairs to make an arrest. God knows the wife probably had reason enough to want the abusive bastard dead, but the neighbor swears they were talking in her back garden for about an hour, and the neighbor’s children confirm it.”

“And there’s no chance the hydraulic jack simply failed on its own?” John asked, more to let Lestrade keep talking than any real doubt the police might have made a mistake about it.

“It’s a twist-activated pressure release valve. Someone stuck a pencil through the hole and rotated it open.”

“And dropped a 1966 Rolls-Royce Phantom right onto Mr Kelshew,” Sherlock murmured, a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. “No fingerprints on the pencil except those of the victim, and this definitely wasn’t suicide. The pencil was oddly dented and marked, however. I’ll want to see the garage as well as the house.”

Mrs Kelshew was a thin, worn, well-dressed woman with a practiced smile and haunted eyes. She did her best to hide it, but John recognized a frightened woman when he saw one, and knew the difference between someone intimidated by Sherlock, and someone habitually deferential as a means of self-defense. She made no objections when Lestrade asked to come in, just ushered them into the tastefully expensive, spotless interior.

“Hullo-ullo,” a voice greeted them genially as they entered the sitting-room.

Sherlock stopped, his gaze flying about and coming to rest on a grey bird sidling back and forth on one of the bookshelves. It was almost invisible against the painted wood except for the red feathers in its tail and the white patches surrounding its eyes. “You have an African grey parrot.”

Mrs Kelshew brightened, her smile turning genuine. “Oh yes! That’s Snoopy. I’ve had him since I was a little girl. Not many people recognize them. Do you have one?”

“No, but I wanted one as a child,” Sherlock said so charmingly John was certain he was up to something. “They’re incredibly intelligent birds.”

“Aren’t they? It’s rather like living with a very bright four-year-old at times, but he’s the sweetest boy, really.”

John could empathize with that sentiment.

“How did you teach him to speak?” Lestrade asked, peering in fascination at the grey bird who was returning his attention with evident interest. It sidled closer to the edge of the bookcase, and then climbed down a shelf using its beak and its claws.

“Oh, I didn’t; he picked it up on his own. That hullo-ullo, for instance; it’s exactly how my mum used to greet people.” She gestured to one of the photographs on the fireplace mantel. An older woman sat in a chair, smiling at the camera, with the parrot resting on one gnarled hand. “It’s a little bit like having her still with me every time Snoopy says it.”

“She had rheumatism,” Sherlock remarked.

Mrs Kelshew startled, and Snoopy hissed like a cat. “Hush now, Snoopy. How did you know that?”

“Her hands. The joints are swollen in a very characteristic way. My own grandmother had hands just like hers. She could hardly hold a pen or a brush.”

The anecdote – true or not, and John couldn’t tell – not only reassured Mrs Kelshew, but made her smile even more warmly. “Oh, then you know all about it, of course. Yes, Mum suffered terribly with it in her later years. But that’s where Snoopy showed how bright he really is. He would pick up things she dropped, if he could manage it. He even learned how to help her turn off the kitchen tap and operate the light switches.”

“Really?” Lestrade looked dubious.

“Yes, an African grey’s tongue has muscles in it, unlike any other bird. They can use it along with their beak and their feet, which are really more like hands.”

“Naughty,” scolded Snoopy.

“He’s very protective,” Mrs Kelshew apologized. “Better than any guard dog.” She walked over to the bookcase and extended her hand. Snoopy stepped onto it and then walked up her arm, using his beak to grab on for balance until he reached her shoulder.

John was amazed to see that the sharp-looking beak and claws left no snag marks on the woman’s sweater. He looked around the room again, and this time he saw some small nicks and gouges.

“I’ve read that greys can be particularly possessive of their people,” Sherlock remarked, again with that casual charm. “Was he as protective of your husband?”

Mrs Kelshew’s face clouded, and she reached up to stroke Snoopy with one hand. “No, Snoopy and Andrew didn’t always get along. Andrew seemed to like him at first, but after we were married and moved into this house, he started worrying that Snoopy would damage things. He insisted Snoopy stay in his enclosure. Snoopy didn’t like the move to the new place, or the restriction.”

Sherlock glanced at John. Recognizing his cue, John asked “Had you always let Snoopy roam? Weren’t you afraid he’d fly away?”

“Not really. Snoopy always had the run of the house when I was growing up, and he’s very attached to me. He did get out twice. Both times he knocked on the door, asking to be let back in.”

Snoopy bowed his head, for all the world like an actor acknowledging applause. Mrs Kelshew gently scratched his head. “In any case, keeping him in a cage – or even in an entire room – is cruel. He needs a great deal of attention and stimulation in order to stay healthy. It’s also useless. Snoopy is quite the escape artist, aren’t you, my dear?”

Snoopy chuckled, sounding so much like a person John was rather unnerved by it.

“Fascinating,” Sherlock said. “He can break out of his cage?”

“Andrew tried six different designs. Snoopy beat them all. Between their intelligence, their dexterity, and their sheer destructiveness when upset, there isn’t much that will stop a really determined grey. As long as I kept things clean, Andrew Andrew got used to it eventually, although he never did like it when Snoopy got into his office, or the garage.”

“Hmm.” That was all Sherlock said, but his eyes remained on the bird until Mrs Kelshew excused herself.

“Well?” Lestrade asked after Sherlock had finished examining the house and the garage, and they stood once again on the path to the house.

“I’m afraid your superiors are doomed to disappointment,” Sherlock remarked. “Unless you think they’ll be satisfied by arresting the parrot. The marks on the pencil match those made by its beak all over that house, particularly on its toys.”

“Snoopy?” Lestrade spluttered and stopped dead. “She trained the parrot to kill her husband?”

“Did you observe anything in there?” Sherlock snapped, exasperated. “The toys. The photographs. The way she interacted with the bird – very much as if it was her own child. She’s been attached to Snoopy since she was a little girl herself. Mothers don’t teach their beloved babies to kill.”

“But then how…?”

“Was the bird merely playing, or was there malice in its actions when it released the valve?” Sherlock’s eyes went dreamy. “Certainly the numerous traces of droppings in Mr Kelshew’s office, and on the shoes in his closet, are suggestive. It’s interesting to wonder whether the avian mind is truly capable of contemplating murder, much less successfully planning one out. But unless Snoopy finds a way to tell us conclusively, I doubt we’ll ever really know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 16, 2019.


End file.
